


Paths

by Ailette



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gokusen setting, Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA Gokusen 4, with FumaKen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paths

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/79245.html)  
> A/N: Posting this for Kento's birthday, since it seems very appropriate with Bad Boys J coming up. I blame this on Fuma's hair and funkysparks who agreed that a Gokusen 4 with Fuma and Kento in it would be pretty great. Take that as a warning for slight crack up ahead.

“You’re sitting at the wrong table.” Fuma speaks with his voice low, tone dangerous as he steps behind the unassuming first year student in his seat. “Because that’s _mine_.”  
  
An immediate silence descends over the cafeteria, only disturbed by the horrified gasp from the boy at the table. Fuma smirks as his hands settle on the back of the chair, rocking it slightly. He doesn’t even need to raise his voice anymore; every student is paying enough attention to him that the second he starts speaking, everyone else just shuts up. Complete silence.  
  
Someone sneezes loudly.  
  
Fuma’s head snaps up, one of his hands about to fist itself into the collar of the kid in front of him when the sound destroys his carefully build up dramatic moment. When he’s around, people who aren’t part of his gang know better than to make noise, they all know to be quiet and disappear into the background – except for one.  
  
He locks eyes with Kento, who’s smiling at him apologetically as he casually flips his hair out of his face. As if he didn’t just do that on purpose. The boy’s eyes meaningfully sweep down to the terrified kid in front of Fuma and then back up again. Fuma purses his lips. He is not going to let this one go easily. This is _his_ spot at _his_ table and if he just lets some stupid little freshman sit there, his status as the number one in this school is in danger.  
  
Behind him, he can hear some of his friends start to grumble, but he doesn’t turn, still glaring at Kento across the cafeteria. He’s not going to give in this time. No way.  
  
Kento tilts his head ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging further upwards.  
  
“Dammit!”  
  
Fuma kicks the chair in front of him in frustration and turns away, clicking his tongue. He’s got his eyes fixed on Kento as he stalks over with long, determined strides. Kento is trying not to grin and failing at it quite badly. The second Fuma reaches him, he grabs him by the neatly bound necktie and starts dragging him towards the exit.  
  
Kento at least pretends to dig his heels in, but only for a second before he willingly starts following behind Fuma. He can hear the whispers around them, can see the terrified look in some of his classmates’ eyes. No one steps up to help him; they’re all too scared to become Fuma’s next victim if they do.  
  
Their little charade continues through the glass corridor and across the school yard until they reach the back of the baseball clubhouse, where Fuma more or less kicks the door open to shove Kento in ahead of himself and lock the old door behind them. Kento doesn’t even stumble (he never does), just gracefully spins on his heel in a little pirouette and then full-out grins at Fuma.  
  
“Shut up,” Fuma growls and yanks him close again to press their mouths together. And because Kento never does as he’s told, especially not by Fuma, he chuckles into the kiss.  
  
“You know I don’t like it when you pick on the little ones,” Kento says when they pull apart to make themselves comfortable on the ratty old couch in the middle of the club house. It’s the baseball club’s officially, but then they haven’t dared to set foot in here since Fuma literally kicked them out almost two years ago. Somewhere along the way, it’s become theirs.  
  
“You don’t like it when I pick on the big ones, either. Who am I allowed to bully according to you? No one,” Fuma grumbles as he bends over to fix Kento’s tie back to the way it was before he manhandled it.  
  
“That’s because bullying is bad,” Kento says indulgently for what must be the millionth time. “If you need to beat someone up, wait until some stupid delinquents from one of the other schools attack again.”  
  
And with that, he hands Fuma his bright yellow lunch box to dig for chopsticks in the depth of his bag. Fuma still glares at him, but is obviously distracted by the idea of food.  
  
“You realize I’m also one of those ‘stupid delinquents’.”  
  
“No, you’re not. You’re the smartest person I know,” Kento protests and snuggles into Fuma’s side just to be contrary, legs tugged under him. “You just hide it very well.”  
  
Fuma snorts, but lets himself be fed tiny pieces of Kento’s lunch anyways. It’s become too much of a routine for them, the bickering included, for Fuma to take honest offense at anything Kento could say anyway.  
  
And Kento has said pretty much everything there is.  
  
They’ve been together since Middle School, but went to separate High Schools at first. Kento maintains that he only switched schools because it’s easier to get into his first choice for university from this school, but Fuma knows he only came here after he heard about Fuma turning into a delinquent.  
  
Not that that had been of his own choice – no one just leaves the path of a straight-A student to start beating up people instead. In Fuma’s case, there had been one false accusation, a whole class of supposed friends turning on him and not a single person to support him that had done it. The charges had been dropped in the end, but by then Fuma had already gotten used to making people understand the truth with his fists more than words and come home bruised and bleeding more often than not.  
  
Kento sighs and reaches out to graze his fingers over the latest of Fuma’s injuries, a cut at the arch of his eyebrow. He doesn’t like the fact that Fuma gets himself hurt over and over again, but when Fuma leans into his touch on instinct, he smiles anyway, because now he’s at least there to watch out for him until Fuma gets back on the path he belongs, with him.

***

  
It’s after one of their little breaks, when they sneak out of the club house and quickly try to get back to their respective classrooms (because Kento is still in a normal class, as opposed to Fuma), when they are discovered.  
  
“Kikuchi? What the hell, we were looking everywhere for you!”  
  
Fuma snaps to attention instantly from where he’s been comfortably slumping against Kento, his hands twitching automatically.  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
His tone is neutral, but Kento is close enough to tell that he’s completely rigid and Kento tries to carefully slink back into the club house, the door still open by a crack.  
  
“What’re you doing with the teacher’s pet over there?”  
  
…but they’ve already seen him.  He shrinks into himself unconsciously, his gaze flicking to Fuma, unsure what to do. They’re obviously a secret; Fuma’s gang can’t know.  
  
One of Fuma’s friends laughs loudly. “What, are you friends with him or something?”  
  
Another one reaches over to slap him over the head. “Dude, watch what you’re saying. There’s no way Kikuchi would even hang with a loser like that. He was going to teach him a lesson for being a pest, right?”  
  
The first guy’s eyes light up as they all turn their attention back to Fuma, who’s got his fists clenched so tightly, his fingernails must be digging painfully into his flesh.  
  
“This is going to be so much fun,” the guy snickers. “We haven’t had a proper fight in _forever_.”  
  
Kento wonders why exactly they would think he would put up a proper fight. He’s never gotten in so much as a shouting match with anyone. He hates fighting no matter who does it. Fuma catches his panicked gaze and holds it for a second, confusion and indecision written all over his face. It tugs at Kento’s heart and he tries to look less like he wants to run and hide and instead tilts his head in the smallest nod in history; silently giving Fuma the OK to do whatever he deemed necessary to protect his position as leader.  
  
Fuma’s full lips straighten into a thin line, his eyes sliding away from Kento when he looks back at his friends. Kento closes his eyes for a second, reminds himself that this is worth it, that he doesn’t mind suffering a little if it’s for Fuma’s sake. He tries to remember the boy from a few years ago, the boy with the awkward haircut and chubby cheeks who confessed to Kento in the middle of gym practice after tripping them both up during soccer practice.  
  
But when he opens his eyes, that’s not who he sees. Next to him is the guy with cuts and scars across his knuckles, bruises on his face, long brown hair with rebellious streaks of blond mixed into it and a constant snarl on his lips that’s slowly turning into a grin that makes Kento’s blood run cold.  
  
“This guy?” Fuma turns and looks him up and down appraisingly before he grimaces. “How’s some girl gonna make for a proper fight?”  
  
There are a few snickers from the crowd surrounding them and Fuma’s eyes take on a dark glint. He steps forward and Kento almost reaches out for him, wanting him to stop, to stay right next to him - but his hand only twitches and then he closes his eyes again. He can’t. When he came here, he promised Fuma that he wouldn’t do anything to threaten his position as the school’s leader.  
  
He hears their little crowd cheering louder. _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. He can deal with being punched. Fuma does it all the time, how bad can it really be?  
  
Suddenly, someone grabs him by the shirtfront and picks him almost clean of the ground. He presses his eyes closed tighter and tries not to think of all the times he’s had to pick up Fuma from the nurse’s office, or that one time he’d found Fuma bleeding on a factory floor, unconscious but with his phone still clutched firmly in his hand; the screen showing Kento’s name.  
  
Fuma won’t let them beat him up to that extent. He won’t.  
  
The first punch is thrown and someone gasps in pain – only it’s not Kento. Kento’s eyes snap open when he’s dropped back to the ground and stumbles before catching himself on the wall of the club house. At his feet, the boy who must have been holding him up is curled in on himself, groaning in pain. Kento’s mouth is slightly agape as he looks up to find Fuma with his back to him, arm still outstretched from where he just punched one of his gang in the stomach.  
  
“If you want a proper fight, try me,” Fuma growls and Kento sees several people taking an immediate step back. These guys have seen Fuma fight often enough not to take any threat from him lightly.  
  
“What the hell, Kikuchi?”  
  
“You’re not laying a finger on him,” Fuma hisses and Kento’s eyes widen when it finally sinks in what’s happening.  
  
“What do you care?”  
  
Fuma straightens slightly. “Good question,” he says in a mock-praising tone before turning around to look at Kento.  
  
His expression is hardened, but when he sees Kento’s wide eyes, he shoots him a small, reassuring smile and reaches out to rest his hand on Kento’s shoulder. His gaze lingers on him for a second longer, even when he starts speaking to his gang again.  
  
“Because he’s mine and you guys of all people should know that I don’t like it when people mess with what’s mine.”  
  
The tone is icy and sends another shiver down Kento’s spine, but it’s of an entirely different variety than the one from before and he’s almost glad when Fuma’s attention shifts away from him again, fingers quickly squeezing his shoulder before sliding away.  
  
The tension in the air is almost palpable, with Fuma and the guys staring each other down. Kento can see a teacher coming their way and thinks about calling for help, but then said teacher obviously spots them, suddenly stops, turns and runs and Kento inwardly curses in words he’d scold Fuma for using.  
  
One of the guys steps forward, hands in his pocket just like Fuma so often does. It takes a moment, but then Kento recognizes him as Fuma’s left hand, Juri. He sees Fuma tensing up even more and bites his lip; he knows how much his friends mean to Fuma. The fact that he’s doing this must go against everything he believes in and he’s doing it to protect Kento.  
  
“You’re going out with him,” Juri states rather than asks, tone neutral.  
  
Fuma nods, slowly, and edges slightly to the side to put himself directly between Juri and Kento. “You got a problem with that?”  
  
“Of course I got a problem with that!” And now Juri is yelling and Kento flinches. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? If I had a girlfriend, I would totally introduce her to you!”  
  
Kento’s jaw drops and he can see several people opposite him doing the same as they stare at Juri.  
  
“Don’t you trust me, man? I thought we were friends! Keeping secrets is totally not cool!”  
  
Fuma’s voice sounds slightly incredulous when he exclaims, “That’s it?”  
  
Juri nods firmly, a gesture that gets repeated by more and more of the people behind him, and spreads his arms wide open. Kento just keeps staring, completely lost by now, when Fuma steps forward into the most overly done macho hug he’s ever witnessed and the boys behind them start cheering loudly.  
  
  
“I think I’ve had a wrong impression of delinquents,” Kento mutters when the troupe of boys leaves to terrorize the table tennis club after Fuma and Juri have completed their special handshake (and Kento _sees_ Juri slipping Fuma a condom in there) in parting. With the exception of the two people who are carrying their unconscious friend and said friend himself, everyone is happily waving to them. Kento waves back hesitantly, but next to him Fuma is all out grinning, bouncing on his feet and waving with both arms over his head. He looks like an overexcited puppy. “Or maybe just your friends.”  
  
“They’re the best friends ever,” Fuma sighs giddily. “I don’t know why I doubted them.”  
  
The last of the motley crowd vanishes behind the corner of the school building and Kento stops waving to properly look at Fuma. He’s positively glowing with happiness and relief and even though Kento’s head is still reeling from the extremely unexpected turn of events, he’s also pleased. He’s not quite sure what it all means, though.  
  
“What just happened,” he asks and Fuma laughs, the carefree tone enough to ease Kento’s oncoming headache. Fuma isn’t the type to keep secrets, this must have weighed him down more than Kento had realized.  
  
“You just became the officially approved girlfriend.”  
  
It’s a good thing the gang is now completely gone, because Kento is pretty sure they wouldn’t like seeing him smack Fuma over the back of the head.  
  
“That’s the second time you called me a girl today.”  
  
“Sorry,” Fuma says sheepishly and leans down slightly to peck Kento’s pursed lips.  
  
Kento’s eyes widen. They’re right out in the open, probably visible from some of the class rooms’ windows.  
  
“What?” Fuma asks, clearly amused by Kento’s shock. “We don’t have to sneak around anymore. Officially approved, remember?”  
  
“You don’t mind if the rest of the school finds out?”  
  
Fuma snorts. “I don’t give a shit about what the rest of them think.”  
  
“I give up.”  
  
Kento sighs and lets himself slump forward until his head connects with Fuma’s chest; warm arms close around his slouched frame automatically to support him. He can practically feel his sanity draining away from him. “I can’t keep up with you at all today.”  
  
Though if he really thought about it, it probably makes sense that Fuma would only care about what his friends think. With everything that’s happened, they must have become more important to him than Kento had been aware. Of course, they were the ones who helped him get back on his feet after he’d been betrayed by everyone he’d trusted before at this school, no matter how dubious their methods had been. They had been there for him when he’d needed real friends the most and Kento couldn’t be. Fuma had only stopped hanging out with them constantly when Kento re-appeared by his side and maybe, without noticing, he’d driven a wedge between them.  
  
“Sorry,” Fuma says again, quieter this time. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of Kento’s head, tightening his grip on him unconsciously and Kento realizes that he’s apologizing for something else. Something Kento doesn’t want him to feel sorry for, so he shakes his head and peeks up through his bangs to meet Fuma’s eyes.  
  
“I don’t regret coming here,” he says with a smile.  He’s hit the nail on the head, it seems, when Fuma’s expression relaxes again; going from guilty to impish in under a second.  
  
“Even though you’ve turned into a delinquent because of it?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t know how many times I have to repeat this. _Officially approved_ ,” Fuma teases, grinning. “And that also means you’re part of the gang now.”  
  
Kento grimaces. “Don’t say that.”  
  
When Fuma’s grin only broadens, Kento gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I can’t fight,” he says, slowly. “And I don’t want to and am not going to, ever.”  
  
“That’s okay.”  
  
Incidentally, that’s the exact same thing Fuma says when they’re standing in front of his graffiti covered classroom door a day later. Kento has his heels almost literally dug into the floor, hell-bent on not going in there. Acceptance from Fuma’s friends – good. Joining them? Not good at all. The plan was to get Fuma out of this environment, not get dragged into it himself.  
  
But Fuma is smiling goofily at him, apparently not a care in the world, his arm around Kento’s waist and trying to subtly shove him forwards.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Kento is aware that he’s probably not going to get out of this with logic, but still he argues, “It didn’t seem like some of your friends had a very high opinion of me.”  
  
“They’ll come to like you soon enough, especially once they figure out you can help them with their homework.”  
  
Kento bites down on a ‘Delinquents do homework?’ (he really doesn’t understand them) and instead goes for, “Then you should help them, you always got better grades than me. For heaven’s sake, you still do, even now.”  
  
He’s sure that it’ll be another useless argument, but suddenly, Fuma isn’t meeting his eyes anymore. Instead, he’s staring at the graffiti of a giant yellow duck behind Kento’s head like he’s suddenly contemplating its possible deeper meaning. It’s puzzling for a few moments, but then a grin spreads over Kento’s features when the realization hits.  
  
“They have no idea about your grades, do they.”  
  
Fuma fidgets nervously, still avoiding Kento’s inquisitive gaze. “They know that I’m good at sports,” he says evasively.  
  
When Kento doesn’t reply anything to that, Fuma peeks down at him and his heart sinks. Kento is grinning at him in a way that spells nothing but trouble. Then, he spins on his heel and easily slips out and away from under Fuma’s arm and before Fuma can do anything about it, he’s flung the classroom door wide open and stepped inside.  
  
“Stop ruining my career as a badass,” Fuma groans.


End file.
